


Sweet Confessions

by Natasha_Barton



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, Mild Language, Sappy Ending, Snowed In, affectionate assassins, otp: a couple of master assassins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Barton/pseuds/Natasha_Barton
Summary: Before they were Avengers, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were known as Strike Team: Delta. At the end of a mission in a remote area, they get snowed in at their safe house, and to pass they time, they decide to play a guessing game that unveils secrets.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Sweet Confessions

“Romanoff, there’s an incoming storm, extraction will have to wait. Grab Barton and head back to the safe house, I’ll send you a new flight plan in the morning.”

“Nick, we’re more than capable enough pilots to avoid—”

“That’s an order, Romanoff. Stay grounded,” Nick grumbled and terminated the call.

“Hear that, Clint? Time to turn around.”

They trekked back through the narrow streets outside Lom, the Norwegian air brisk with a mid-March chill. The wind had noticeably picked up, swirling the powdery tops of snow piles. Years of Russian winters had taught Natasha enough to know Nick was right, the weather was about to get a whole lot worse, it was far too late for takeoff.

The safe house was a small cabin situated near the base of Skarstind, a mountain in the Jotunheimen range that could potentially provide some relief from the gathering blizzard, if the wind would be so kind as to shift. As it was, Nat and Clint had to fight their way through nearly a foot of snow and harsh winds in order to take refuge in the cramped building they thought they had seen for the last time.

The majority of the space was the kitchenette and living room, an open area paneled in dark oak. Off the back wall was a small bedroom and a bathroom, sparsely furnished, but functional. Natasha’s request for two queen beds had gone unheeded, but Clint had been gracious enough to allow her the full-sized bed to herself, opting to sleep on the tattered couch instead.

They dropped their bags by the door and set off to warm the cabin again, to stave off the chill that had permeated the building in their absence. Clint turned on the oven and rummaged through their food reserves as Nat lit a fire.

“Whoever packed our supplies is an idiot,” Clint muttered under his breath, pulling out a couple measly slices of bread and a nearly empty jar of peanut butter. “Who the hell sends two full grown adults on a mission in a remote area with so little for emergency food? What if we’re stuck here for a few days?”

“We’d have more if you didn’t eat so much of it earlier.”

“Can you blame me for not wanting to carry it five miles to the hangar?”

“You’re such a child,” Nat laughed dryly.

Their meager dinner was far from satisfying, but they’d both survived on less, and Nat was grateful Clint hadn’t managed to eat quite _everything_ before they had left. The wind howled outside, the snow piling up along the windowsills, disguising just how much had fallen. It was still early yet, but with nowhere to go, they lounged across the couch, counting the knots in the ceiling beams.

“Hey Nat?”

“Mmhmm?”

“How well do you think we know each other?”

“About as well as I let anybody know me. Why?”

“I’ve got an idea. Want to play a game?”

“What kind of game?”

“We make claims about each other, something we _believe_ to be true, so no easy shots like, ‘You’re one half of Strike Team: Delta.’ Guesses only, no prior knowledge.”

“And if you’re wrong? Are we drinking?”

“Oh no, I know better than to challenge you to any competition involving alcohol. I think I still have some M&Ms.” Clint dug through his duffle for a few moments and triumphantly held up a crumpled bag. He poured out the few remaining candies and divided them into two piles. “If I’m wrong, toss me an M&M. Whoever runs out first wins.”

“You’re giving yourself four guesses?”

“You’re assuming I’m going to be wrong?”

“Maybe.” She smirked. “Alright, I’m game. You avoid talking about family because one of your parents, most likely your father, was abusive.”

“Damn, Nat. There’s no easing into things with you, is there?”

“Is that your claim?” She rolled a blue M&M between her forefinger and thumb.

“Only if I’m right,” he smirked, settling into the oversized chair opposite her.

“No cheating.” She tossed the candy, which he deftly caught. “Okay, easing in… If no one’s looking, you’ll drink straight from the coffee pot.”

“Wait, did you hack into Fury’s cameras?”

“I will now,” she laughed.

“If that’s how this is going to go… You love bad jokes, _especially_ puns.”

“And if you tell anyone else, you’re _dead_ , you hear me, Barton?” Nat narrowed her eyes, as if having a sense of humor beyond sarcasm and biting remarks would tarnish her reputation.

“ _Fine_ , this is all confidential, we’ll keep it out of the mission reports.” Clint laughed, certain including their secrets, no matter how small, was never part of the game plan. There was a lot to be said, a lot to admit, and Natasha was the only person he was willing to open up to. Of course, she’d only get out of him what _she_ wanted to discover, which could be anything.

“ _Good_. Are we still easing in?”

“Please.” A part of him already regretting starting this game.

“You’re far too lazy to bother matching your socks, even if we’re not on a mission and you have plenty of time to sort your laundry.”

“That feels like pre-existing knowledge.” Clint narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Hey, I may _have_ the blueprint to your apartment building, but I haven’t had a reason to break in yet.” Nat raised her hands defensively and smiled as innocently as she could manage.

“…I’m going to choose to ignore that for the sake of our friendship.”

“Good choice.” Nat winked. “Now’s not the time to give you a rundown of all the information I compile on my associates.”

Clint was never quite sure if she was exaggerating about her surveillance, but given her intense and guarded personality, he knew better than to doubt her; between her various shady contacts and heavily detailed notes, she’d saved their asses on more than one occasion.

“You always give me shit about pets, but if I had to venture a guess—”

“Which you do.”

“—I’d say you’re a cat person.”

“Guilty as charged.” She flashed him a tight smile, her lips pressed firmly together.

“Wait, have you never had a pet?”

“First of all, that was a question, and second, it’s not _your turn_. You put off washing dishes until you’ve completely run out of clean stuff.”

“Paper plates exist, you know.” He tossed an M&M her way, but she didn’t move to catch it, so it bounced quietly off her lower lip and landed in her lap. “Nat?”

“Sorry, I got a little lost in thought for a second.” She gently shook her head, ate the candy, and forced a smile. “Easing in, let’s go.”

“You’re afraid of spiders.”

“…You’re serious?” A genuine smile spread across her face before she erupted in laughter. “I’m _Black Widow_ , the Slavic Shadow, the Red Death. You really think I’m afraid of an _arachnid?_ ”

“Admittedly, no,” he chuckled, “but it’s all I’ve got right now.” It was a lie, but he had no intention of letting her know; all he cared about was keeping her happy.

“Take your candy, idiot.” Nat rolled her eyes and held out a green M&M. She placed it in his extended hand, her fingertips lingering on the flat of his palm for a second or two longer than usual. “You cry at weddings, don’t you?”

“Truthfully, I can’t remember the last wedding I went to that wasn’t for a mission, but if you’re including television and movies, yeah, I guess I occasionally cry watching them. Some of us are _human_ , you know.”

“Hey! I’m human! Emotions just aren’t my thing.” She shrugged.

“They could be, and no one would judge you for it. You know that, right?”

“I’m well aware that _you_ would be fine with it, but most of the world is far less forgiving. This is who I am, it keeps me safe. Now please, take your turn before I run out of patience.”

“You would leave this life behind at a moment’s notice and never look back.”

“Hell no. I’m _good_ at this. I’ve done so much bad in my life; this job—dangerous missions in foreign places to stop whatever villain of the week, no matter how small—is my chance to make it right. Sure, retirement sounds nice sometimes, but I can’t see there being a point where I’ve done _enough._ ”

“Nat, you’re a _good_ person.” Clint instinctively reached across the table for her hand, hoping to offer reassurance in whatever way he could. “I see _you_ , not your past, not—”

“But enough about me,” she shook her head and set an orange M&M in his palm, “it’s my turn to guess. Let’s see… Your favorite kill—and before you interrupt me, don’t—was that fucker in Prague that preyed on kids.”

“I’ll admit, he deserved it, but not all of them do.” Clint shrugged. “The world’s a better place with him gone, I’m glad I had a hand in removing a predator from it.”

“See, I _knew_ you enjoyed at least some of the damage we cause!”

“Aren’t we supposed to _prevent_ more damage? I think you forget that sometimes,” Clint teased, giving her a knowing look.

“Oh, whatever,” she laughed. “Can’t a girl have a little fun? We’re _assassins,_ after all.”

“Yeah, fine, you win, I’m an idiot.” He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“An idiot that’s almost out of chances.” Natasha smirked as she picked up the solitary red M&M in front of her. “Ready to lose, Barton?”

He tried to hold his smile, he really did, but nerves were getting the better of him. He’d waited months for an opportunity like this, for all the pieces to fall together _just right._ This wasn’t supposed to be the trip—the snow had moved in faster than predicted, he wasn’t as prepared as he would’ve liked—but there was no doubt in his mind that what he felt was real. He took a steadying breath and met her eyes. This was it, no going back.

“You love me.”

A deafening silence hung in the air, neither of them daring to so much as breathe. The candy slipped from Nat’s grasp and bounced off the edge of the table with a dull _thunk_. She blinked and looked down, tracing its path along the wooden floor until it rolled to a stop near the fireplace. No one moved.

“Nat?” He just needed her to _look_ at him, he needed to see the truth in her eyes, in the lines of her face, but she just stared at the heat from the fire turning the candy shell glossy and thin. “Did I just lose?”

Finally, she turned back around, her expression blank, but her eyes revealed warring emotions beneath the surface.

“You love me,” she echoed quietly.

“With every fiber of my being.”

She searched his face for signs of deceit, but all she found was genuine earnestness; this was real, and she was expected to process it.

“You’re such a sap,” Nat smiled, laughing slightly, “but okay, let’s test your theory.”

She reached across the narrow table and grabbed his shirt to pull him in, their lips meeting in the middle. Clint slid a hand to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangled in her loose curls. Her grip on his shirt softened, and he felt her hands wind around to his back before twisting the fabric in her fists once more. All thoughts about the uncomfortable positioning ceased, just how close he was to falling off the edge of the chair no longer mattered. He’d imagined this moment countless times, but even his wildest dreams couldn’t live up to reality. He fully lost himself in the moment; all that existed were urgent kisses and racing hearts.

Eventually they parted, their breathing heavy, faces flushed, neither sure when the cabin had gotten quite so warm. Natasha laughed breathlessly and smoothed her hair, grinning like an idiot. For years, passion had been her business, but love? Love was new and exciting and _wonderful_.

“I guess we were both right,” Nat beamed, joy radiating from her, somehow making her even more beautiful than usual. Clint’s response got caught in this throat, all he could do was smile back. “Should we continue playing or…?”

Clint moved around the table to sit beside her and took her hand, their fingers automatically entwining, a perfect fit, as if this was how it was meant to be all along. “Forget the game, I’ve already won.”


End file.
